


A man with a Dog

by M_B (Ellia_Bronsky)



Series: Short Stories [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 10:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11507448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellia_Bronsky/pseuds/M_B
Summary: Vignette.Just a man. Just a dog.Overloaded with descriptions.





	A man with a Dog

It was mid-spring. The trees were still naked of leaves and the bare ground was longing of the grass. The wind blew but the air was warm of sun shining from above. This particular street of the city was almost empty and very quiet except for the noise of wind and of shivering trees' branches.

 

Along the street a man walked slowly and sadly, leading (or being led) by a dog on a strand.

 

A man was tall (possibly all six feet high) and thin (perhaps of constant under-eating). He had short messy blond-gray hair and wide-open blue eyes as if he has been death-frightened. His reddish wrinkled face reminded of the sea and sailing through the storms and still waters. The same could be said because of his pierced ear with two antique--looking time-darkened rings made from copper or such.

 

A man was wearing old rinsed jeans and cheap neon-yellow nylon jacket of sorts. In one hand a man had an end of a strand holding a dog: simple metal chain. Other hand of his gripped a hold of a bag. This bag was also remarkable. Old (as, it seemed, were all his possessions) green bag from the nearest supermarket full of bottles and cans of beer, whisky and stuff with one lonely and miserable bunch of spring-onion.

 

A man's dog was similar to its master: old tired hound of black and white color with big watery eyes and long ears sadly hanging by its head' sides. It went slowly, stopping at times to look back at its master or to eye-follow the cat (going nearby) with its jaw open and saliva dropping at its mouth’ sides.

 

At some moment a Man stopped near the three-storey house with high steps leading to the entrance-door and began to rummage through his pockets for the keys. While he sought for them, he looked in front of him absent-mindedly, following the boy on the bicycle with empty eyes. A Dog barked lazily at the boy and lied down on the ground at its master’s feet, closing its eyes. A Man changed in the face and desperately began to take out things from his pocket. A piece of chain-lead for the dog; a screwdriver with broken point; a bottle-opener of strange orange-and-black color; a ring of the beer-can’ cover; a big and dirty handkerchief of Scottish-pattern; a stopper of the wine-bottle of surprisingly-black color with small dots of different colors; a broken comb of bluish and reddish color; a handful of cooper coins; a sweet; a lighter with petrol-station sign; a half-empty pack of cigarettes of cheapest brand; one dirty boot-lace of possibly green color; three crumpled bus-tickets; a piece of paper, looking like a part of some underground-scheme; another piece of paper in the transparent plastic packet, looking like old land-map; an unbend paper-clip of yellow color with strokes of blue; and, at last, a key-ring without keys. A Man eyed the ring sadly, noticing that it was unbend as well. He sighed and sat on the first step of the stairs.

 

An hour passed in silence, except for the hard breathing sound of a Dog and rare sigh of a Man.

 

A Man peered in his bag, took a can of beer and opened it. He emptied it almost in one go and took another can. Opened it as well and got a sip of beer one more time. And again sat almost as the carbon copy of Roden’s “Thinker”: not moving, not talking and even not sighing already.

 

Several more hours passed in dead silence and without movement. A Dog slept, a Man was drinking his beer slowly.

 

Finishing the drink, a Man took out something from his pocket. It was the map in the plastic packet. He unpacked it completely and unfolded it putting on his lap. It was indeed a map of some part of the Ocean probably, with narrow shoreline in the corner and big unnamed island taking almost all the map. There were lines, arrows and directions all over the map, written in purple ink in some unreadable sсript.

 

A Man sighed regretfully, looking at the map longingly and tracing the lines with his knotty long brownish fingers. A Dog, as if sensing something, got up and came to its master, putting its big heavy head on his lap (and on the map) and sighing, also. A Man stroked his pet and only friend with one hand, searching for something in the shopping-bag with the other hand. He took out a large piece of sausage and divided it in two: one piece he suggested to a Dog and began to eat the other part himself.

 

They sat in silence for some more time. At last, a Man got on his feet and said (first time in hours):

 

“Do you think, _amigo_ -Pirate, we’ll manage into the bed today, eh?”

 

A Dog just coughed heavily and nodded, as if agreeing with the master.

 

“Hope so, Pirate. They say I am hopeless! May be so, but I am not dead yet!!!”

 

A Man took the stairs to the door and pushed one of the door-bells on the side of the entrance.

 

“Hope, she’s home today, _amigo_!”

 

The door opened suddenly, revealing old woman in the crumpled gown of green color with the triangle pattern of yellowish flowers on it.

 

“Have you again forgotten your stupid keys, old fool?!” a woman hissed.

 

“You should know better than going out after five days of drinking without keys!!!” a woman ‘barked’ in his back’ direction: a Man began to go up the stairs to his flat.

 

“Thank you, Minerva, _amado_! I’ll do my best next time!” a Man laughed, waving his neighbor goodbye.

 

“There won’t be next times, Silver!!! Hope to not see you again!!!” a woman slammed the door in the house and hid in her flat murmuring curses.

 

A Man – Silver, that was his name, got up to his own place, broke (in all meanings) through the door and dropped on the couch with a grim smirk and heavy sigh.

 

“You know, Pirate, I’d like to ‘not see’ her again, too. I wonder if we somehow can leave for my Island. I’d like to find that house of old Kerth and his ‘treasure’ he’d hidden on that land…”

 

A Dog came to him and again put its head on his lap.

 

A Man stayed looking in nowhere in silence, gently stroking the head of a Dog…

* * *

**Afterword.**

 

_This story was inspired by the strange encounter on the bus about a year ago. A Man with a Dog got on the bus and his appearance moved me to write this short ‘vignette. The incident with the keys was improvised, but based on the too-often to happen misfortune of mine and general occurrence of such an event in people’s everyday life. The “Island of Dream” is just a coincidence and “prank” of my imagination._


End file.
